Heart Of Stone
by PaperClipHips
Summary: Rochelle has returned to Scaris, and intends to remind herself just what she loved about the city. As it seems, a certain Scarisian werecat would be more than happy to accompany her on her journey of discovery and rediscovery. In-progress, T for right now, I may bump up the rating later... RochellexCatrine
1. Chapter 1

Heart of Stone

The air of Scaris is that of unique, a fantastical aroma mingling the old with the new into a mesmerizing blend that saturated the entirety of the city. Like Monster High, the city displayed a populace of gorgeous creatures with a wide demographic to show, albeit the majority being lithe, shorthair werecats that mingled in the cobblestone streets. But, to say that that was all that Scaris held would be the furthest stretch of the truth, rather, it held the ability to stamp itself within one's heart and soul the minute they stepped within its perimeter. That fact was none truer for Rochelle Goyle.

Rochelle had been away from Scaris too long, she had decided it was so the minute she had gotten off the plane and nearly teared up at the sight of the Eiffel Terror. Being nearly night, Rochelle and the group had decided to head to her family home, each of them looking forward to the promise of a soft bed and hearth to call home for the extent of their trip. Rochelle's grandmother, though stoic in demeanor, was happy to see her granddaughter's return and welcomed the ghouls with as much of a warm smile she could manage with her stone visage. She watched the ghouls settle in for the night, donning their elaborate sleepwear and shedding their makeup, it was somewhat tender to see her friends in their most organic forms. Each bid one another goodnight, while she found herself energetic and curious. It was almost like she had never been at Monster High, she was right back in Scaris and nothing had changed except for a slight sheen of dust on some things. While her friends slept, Rochelle took it upon herself to become familiar again with her former hometown. She doubted that she could sleep with all the nervous energy she had within her, from what she didn't know, but she decided that she may as well try to quell whatever urge was stirring within her. Rochelle pulled her luggage up a flight of stairs and into her childhood bedroom, setting her beret on the edge of her rolling suitcase's handle. She propped herself in the window nearest to her, dangling her legs outside and peering down unto the unsuspecting Scarisians who happened to be out. She had a two story height advantage to her efforts. Many often forgot that the Goyles watched over the city, primarily because those like her grandmother seemed to never move nor blink an eye, and they blended right in with the architecture. None noticed Rochelle's watching, and if they did they surely didn't mind. She looked down at ground below her, and imagined her shoe slipping from her foot and instinctively curled her toes in to ensure that that didn't happen. From her perch, she lay witness to the night's offerings: a couple experiencing a tender first embrace after a confirmation of mutual feelings, a child drawing on his doorstep with an array of chalk in washed-out neon hues, a vendor hopelessly peddling tourist-aimed goods, and a street artist sketching away at something...

She had had her fill of monster-watching shortly thereafter, it seemed it wasn't necessarily what she was looking to see since the anxiousness in her core remained. Being in Scaris again was almost dreamlike, especially seeing the luminous city at night. When the warm light of the sun started to fade and the crisp, white glow of the moon took overhead, Scaris illuminated itself by its own means. Bioluminescent monsters would emerge from their dull daytime colors and brandish incandescence in fantastical shades of xanthic yellows and beryl blues. Within the Eiffel Terror you could find lanterns filled with flames of all different colors due to the specific minerals added into combustible compounds, the tower looked so frighteningly fantastic even from where Rochelle was. And the sky lanterns that took flight nightly added the last element to creating the Scaris midnight ambiance. Every ounce of the city was bathed in varying intensities of this universal glow, and it made it feel so special. It was easy to lose track of time when fixated on the city. Rochelle stretched her wings and sighed dreamily at the release of the knot betwixt her shoulder blades. She could feel that the energy she had once had was starting to diminish, the city was obviously what her heart wanted to see. She would see it in the morning for all of its glory with her cluster of friends, and with that she made promise to be up and early tomorrow to spend the wee hours with her grandmother, and the rest of the day with her friends. Rochelle leaned back into the space of her room and twisted her legs in as to exit the window, when she heard a gentle call from outside.

"Pardon mademoiselle!"

Rochelle turned back to the window and looked out, she wasn't sure who had called her, but the voice was smooth and feminine. Her eyes eventually caught wind of the hand waving for her attention, being that of the street artist's from earlier who was situated on the opposite side of the cobble stone road. The werecat smiled as Rochelle noticed her, her tail swishing in a way that convened an air of satisfaction.

"Pardon mademoiselle, I am so sorry to bother you. But may I ask that you sit in the window once more?" called out the werecat artist.

Rochelle was unsure how to answer. As much as she was a native to Scaris, she had never once been the subject of a public artist, as far as she knew anyway. She had always been aware that someone was trying to paint her, since the only one who had ever illustrated her was Garot.

"I was so close to finishing, it will only take a few more strokes, non? I promise it won't be long," she added on, grinning hopefully at Rochelle.

Her accent was a lovely touch to her plea, and how could Rochelle say no to such an enchanting face. Ice blue eyes, even in the monster world, were not that common.

"Oui, I will."

Rochelle gave a sympathetic expression to the artist and shook her head as she saw how happy she was for her affirmation. Rochelle resituated herself in the window, trying to make sure that she sat exactly how she was before. Right leg here, left leg there, shoulder forward. She looked down to the young ghoul with a question.

"What way would you like me to look, na?" Rochelle was sure that her accent was getting thicker and thicker every moment more she spent in Scaris, it was intending to come back with avengeance.

"If you could look to your right, s'il vous plaît," she purred out, placing her own head in the fashion she wanted Rochelle to pose. "Oh! Can you stretch your wings out as well, you looked tres angélique".

She had never considered herself angelic, nor graceful. Rather, she felt tragic fit the bill slightly better, because she made tragedy seem very beautiful with her furrowed brow, sloped wings, and cracking exterior. People would always love to paint sad and forlorn imagery because it is such an easy emotion to convey, she felt that was perhaps why Garot painted her portrait so often. But as much as she didn't consider herself angelic, being told she was felt very nice. She posed as the artist wanted, and indulged in the notion that she may be pretty in an appealing sort of way to someone at least. She sat for roughly ten minutes when the werecat let out a mewl of delight. Rochelle sleekly slid out of the window and leaned on her elbows, getting comfortable and watching her.

"C'est tres magnifique!" she sprung up from her seat, folded it, and sauntered across the street with it tucked under her arm towards Rochelle's roost. "You are the perfect model, you are as still as stone".

The ghoul smiled at her words, of course she was a still as stone, she was made of it. Rochelle leaned down as she neared, interested in hearing what she had to say. She watched as the cat unfolded her chair and proceeded to step up onto it, allowing her to be within arms reach of Rochelle The werecat wore a sly grin as she asked,

"May I ask what the name of my muse is?"

Her muse? Rochelle felt her cheeks warm but she was compelled to send back the same flirtatious look. She hated to say it, but even though she was made of granite, she was such softie when it came to flattery.

"My name is Rochelle."

At the mention of her name, the werecat mouthed it back and produced a genuine smile so sweet Rochelle could feel her teeth dissolving. Acid rain held no candle to her intensity.

"Who are you talking to mate?"

Rochelle froze when she heard the conspicuous voice of Lagoona Blue. Rochelle turned around to see her standing in the doorway of her room, logically having just come out of the bathroom across from across the hall with toothbrush in tow. Rochelle stuttered as she tried to grasp at the words she was looking for, though it was apparent that they were purposely avoiding her, or maybe that they didn't exist at all. She could understand how odd the situation appeared however, it being near midnight and here she was fully dressed in her street clothing still, talking out of her window to some mystery monster. Rochelle turned back to the werecat while still bemused for words.

"It was so nice meeting you, perchance we will meet again soon," the artist purred endearingly, making sure to draw out the "per-" in perchance with as much kitty charm as possible.

She slowly stepped down from her chair and began to walk away and Rochelle felt her heart drop into her the pit of her stomach. Any sort of jovial enlightenment from their encounter was turning back into weight as she feared she may have sent the wrong message with her worried expression. She was enjoying the beautiful company of her artistic admirer, she hadn't wanted them to part so soon. The feline was already packing up her paints and pastels and donning her leather jacket.

"Are you gonna ask her what her name is or what, love?" chirped Lagoona, baring a friendly smirk that insinuated a possibility of understanding what was happening.

She leaned against the doorframe and motioned for her to go ahead. Rochelle at that point was more than happy to call Lagoona one of her best ghoul friends. There may be plenty of fish in the sea, but there would always be one Lagoona. She turned back to the window with renewed vigor.

"Wait, please! What is your name?"

The werecat's ears perked up and her tail swayed with fervent intrigue.

"Catrine."

Catrine beamed as Rochelle relaxed, blithesome that her muse appeared to hold a mutual interest in her. She nestled her carrying case under her arm and held the portrait of Rochelle close to her, making sure she was the only one who could see it.

"If you would like to see your portrait, maybe you can come find me tomorrow."

Catrine winked at her, and then strolled away with a man-killer strut, owning every step with leisurely confidence. Rochelle watched and hurriedly drank in the features of the girl with a sort of latent desire, chewing on her lip as what lay dormant during their encounter was suddenly feeling much more bold. Catrine had a rapturous set of legs, long and elegant and coated with spotless white fur. Even from the window, Rochelle could see the glisten of blue opalescence from Catrine's fur, giving her an evanescent surrealness that seemed more than unbelieveable. She couldn't help but wax envious at the sight of her perfect paleness, as she herself was stippled in every shade of gray known to monsterkind. Catrine's lavender locks were perfectly coiffed, her ears were wholly precious, and the beauty mark under her left eye was to die for. All in all, everything together produced an ambrosial divinity that surpassed even Scaris in beauty. She was ashamed that she had skimmed over Catrine's beauty earlier whilst she was monster-watching. What side of town bred cat-femmes that gorgeous and where could she find more? Rochelle closed the window's rot iron bars, nearly forgetting that Lagoona was in the room with her. Lagoona gave her the most sheepish grin she had ever seen, and Rochelle knew she was caught in something, but she didn't say anything about it in the end. Lagoona herself knew the trials and tribulations of tragic attraction, so she wasn't there to judge, but it was impossible not to feel a bit saucy at the sight of her friend lip-nibbling at a stranger.

Lagoona left shortly thereafter, she imagined that her friend may have wanted some privacy to digest what just happened between her and Catrine. Rochelle settled onto her bed, gently removing her shoes one strap at a time, and then sliding them next to her night stand. And with her last bit of energy, she settled into the impression in her bed, and welcomed the rush of satisfied sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Rochelle awoke of the murmur of her friends moving about the house. She very slowly opened her eyes, considering whether or not to get up now or to lounge in her bed for a bit more. Rochelle was sincerely tired, and conceded that maybe she would push her promise with her grandmother to tomorrow. She brushed her hair out of her face and felt it slide over her shoulder blades, creating an all over body itch that served as her urge to wake up a little more. Rochelle pressed her ear to her mattress and listened quietly to the other ghouls on the floor below. Their voices were easily identifiable, and it seemed like most of them were in the middle of making breakfast from what she could tell. In between the muffles she was sure she heard a blender and the unintentional slamming of kitchen drawers and cabinets. Even amongst the noise, Rochelle thought it was rather comforting to hear them mull about their business: a helpful reminder to serve as confirmation that yes, she was back in Scaris, and this time with friends. Their sounds had a dreamy underwater feel to them when they were subdued by layers of insulation and hardwood flooring. Even the squawking between Toralei and Clawdeen read as relaxed and muted.

With her head still in a lukewarm dream mindset, she imagined the ghouls as aquatic beasts who would chat through saltwater voices and bubble transmissions. Lagoona would be so ecstatic to welcome her friends to her world. They all melded with soft shades of aquamarine, yellow, and coral. Clawdeen donned a marvelous mermaid tail and had glimmering turquoise fur, effectively becoming a werewolf-mermaid hybrid, and trading in her bark for a siren's sigh. Frankie had grown long, continuous fins down the outside of her calves and forearms that waved with her as she swam about, turning her into a reanimated electric eel. Abbey's beautiful hair became translucent snow white tendrils, complete with pastel suction cups that matched the color of the gill slits on the soft curves of her abdomen. Draculaura's face was lit up brightly in a warm pinkish brilliance, as Rochelle could see her with a heart shaped esca protruding from her forehead that would bob and sway with each of her perky movements and just draw monsters in; though she had no doubts that Draculaura could do that with her personality alone. Dearest Ghoulia took after a jellyfish, her whole body becoming milky clear, though bioluminescent blue in the center of her body, with hair comprised of endless tentacles that just begged to wrap themselves around you. Cleo was the most dainty of Rochelle's creations, though anyone who met Cleo was sure to know she was anything but. Cleo had beautiful bundles of water lilies growing from her skin, covering her most private of areas, that gradually faded into sleek stints of skin, while strands of seaweed fused with her hair. Lastly, there was Toralei. Regardless of how hilarious it would've been to see her fused with a catfish, she had her hair sculpted back into a fin to match the one that had developed on her spine. With webbed fingers and toes, that ghoul was a shark, and that stood true in reality and dreamscape. And as they talked, their words sounding faint and muffled, they looked so happy. Just so, so happy. Rochelle felt drunk from the scene, warm and happy, even though she realized she wasn't there to enjoy the water with them.

Or rather, she thought, perhaps she was in the water. Sinking.

She pried herself from her bed at that point, there was no reason for her to be thinking negatively this early in the morning. Even if it was probably true. Rochelle grimaced at the sight of her dress, wrinkled beyond belief. She was somewhat appalled at how she could fall asleep in her day clothing. Then again, she recalled the source of her casualness. Rochelle thought back to what had happened last night with fondness, and remembered Catrine's sort of offer.

"_If you would like to see your portrait, maybe you can come find me tomorrow."_

Rochelle kept that in mind as she considered what she might wear on the day's voyage into the city. She wanted to look nice, very nice in fact, so that if she just so happened to run into a particular werecat she would be nothing short of breathtaking. She considered just how nicely lavender and pink went together. Rochelle dressed in her favorite Scarisian dress, complete with striped tights, and set aside her accessories for later. Currently, she had a righteous hunger that needed to be dealt with. She moseyed down the stairs softly, playing a little game to see if she could avoid making the stairs squeak. At the last stair, the one right in front of the kitchen doorway, a shrill cry drew out and she realized that her winning streak was over and her presence was alluded to rather unceremoniously. She was unable to get a peep out before she was swarmed with cheery faces and bright eyes.

"Oh Rochelle! Good morning! It's a good thing you came down, we were making breakfast, and sorry about your kitchen, boy did we make a mess! Promise we'll clean it up, but anyway we were thinking about making fangcakes but it turned out that you didn't have any flour so we..." Frankie was talking a mile a minute, and it was getting hard to take in every detail, but Rochelle put on a brave face and tried anyway. Her senseless prattle was a pleasure to be held even so. Frankie was still riding high on her wave of excitement and was as winsome as ever.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Draculaura anxiously waiting by the toaster for something to pop out. Her face dipped closer and closer as the anticipation for her food grew, much like waiting for the light to change at an intersection. The pressure was mounting as she knew it was going to happen, though she didn't know when, just that it would be soon, and sooner yet at every second that passed. Draculaura let out a tiny shriek when the toast finally did emerge. Precious nonetheless. Lagoona worked her magic at the stove top next to Clawdeen, pumping out food for everyone. And then there was Toralei, the cat who would never be pleased.

"You ghouls call this coffee? Ugh, I guess I have to show you all how to do everything."

Rochelle wouldn't hesitate to bet money on the idea that Toralei hadn't really done any of the cooking this morning. There was too much sass behind her voice to even indicate a mild sense of tired frustration from doing anything. She watched as Toralei pulled open one of the cabinets, and then used her tail to grab an empty mug. Rochelle found herself fixated on her tail. The coiling of the vertebrae and the splaying of the fur at the joints; It was mystifying to watch her manipulate her tail so effortlessly, obviously an ability that came with growing up with it and forgetting how difficult life would be without it. It was probably taken granted for all the same. Watching her display, Rochelle thought back to her own wings. Her wings were fairly cosmetic, she would never be able to fly like the other winged ghouls even though she displayed all the textbook capabilities and articulations. She remembered an incident that occurred when she was young, when she still lived in Scaris. For some odd reason, she had been trying to fly in the living room, and while she wasn't taking off, her wings were moving with enough velocity to shake the whole house. Needless to say, she broke quite a few vases that day and developed some of the cracks in her wings. She wondered if Catrine ever painted with her tail. The thought of her balancing three paintbrushes at once, each holding a different color, was searingly cute. Rochelle wondered what else a werecat might use her tail for...

"Rochelle? Rochelle! Ghoul, you can not be staring off into space right behind me. You near got a face fulla' my famous screambled eggs. Granted, I know they are that delicious, but egg stain is not the new black, ya know?"

Clawdeen's playful remarks pulled Rochelle out of her daydream, and had she needed it. Lagoona pulled that knowing smile again, because while Clawdeen didn't know, Lagoona was more than aware that a certain cat had a certain somebody's tongue.

"I am sorry Clawdeen, I must not be fully awake yet. Excuse moi."

Ghoulia placed her hand on Rochelle's shoulder, she could feel that something may have been a bit off.

"Perhaps we could go out together today, all of us?" Rochelle softly said.

Ghoulia nodded in approval, and with that, they planned how their day would go.

Rochelle had spent the majority of her time walking around with Ghoulia and Frankie, trying to follow what was left of the trail to Garot. But evidently, the trail must have been made of bread crumbs and the pigeon population hungry, as it was seeming futile to follow the love letters and rose petals. Rochelle was near ready to give up, she had given her phone number to so many strangers who had merely spoken of seeing him once, that she was likely going to have to get a new number for convenience and safety's sake. Descending from a rooftop, it was becoming apparent that it was without fail hopeless. She was on her last strand of confidence as Frankie alerted her to a passing individual who looked oddly like him.

"Oh! Ghoulia, follow them as best you can!" Frankie called out, sparking at the bolts in her neck.

It was funny how the last strand was often the strongest.

Rochelle seated herself on Ghoulia's scooter as quick as she could, and held on as Ghoulia laid the pedal to the metal. It had been a valiant chase, leading them into the catacombs, nearly into the forbidden section, and finally back out through a brush covered lattice. The daylight had been so blinding at that moment, it was as if they had burst through the underground and found refuge in the light. The monster they had been chasing was still in sight, and with a turn of a corner, they found themselves face to face with the curvature of a fountain. Murphy's law a constant, the ghouls not only crashed, but they landed squarely in the center of the fountain. Rochelle's day and outfit had been soured, but procured an unanticipated twist the more she looked at the unknown monster. Was that a tail she spotted? Were they really just following a ghoul who wasn't even the same species as Garot? Just some stranger? The stranger peeled off their helmet, and out cascaded purple curls.

"I would say it's nice to see you again my muse, but you look rather upset".

That was no stranger, that was indeed Catrine. Rochelle was stunned speechless, to a point where Catrine couldn't help but giggle amusedly at her confoundment.

"Catrine! I? We- ugh" Rochelle felt as though she were melting down, and then froze shortly before her critical point.

Rochelle couldn't wrap her head around the odds she faced of her exact scenario occurring. Mathematicians would spend months trying to calculate the minuscule possibility of the mystery monster being Catrine, at least three chalkboards worth of constant calculations and undefined variables and Greek letters. Even the genius Jackson Jekyll would be unnerved at this quantitative challenge. Rochelle reeled herself back in.

"Would it be precocious of moi to assume you may need a ride?"

Oh, that kitty was smooth. Rochelle turned to look at Ghoulia and Frankie, both of which looked tired and uncomfortable in the fountain. They both nodded. Rochelle cracked an apathetic grin, and gladly took the hand that Catrine offered. Local merchants and onlookers offered worried looks and thankfully a few towels to the ghouls. They tried as best they all could to situate themselves on her scooter, prepared for a damp and crowded ride to the lunch pavillion their friends said they would be at. Catrine seemed more of an expert on the streets than Rochelle herself, with her driving bordering on show-offish.

"When I said to come find me, I hadn't thought it would be like this!" Catrine yelled back to Rochelle. Rochelle couldn't help but agree with Catrine. Neither Rochelle nor Catrine were witness the confused look shared between Frankie and Ghoulia though. Had they met this mystery werecat before and simply didn't recall?

As they weaved and hummed through the streets, Rochelle decided it would be her turn to be the flirty one. Rochelle, seated behind Catrine, very gently placed her hands on Catrine's hips, so much so that she didn't think that the ghoul even noticed her touch. A little more obviously, she slid her arms all the way around Catrine's torso. Her shirt felt soft to the touch. She gauged the werecat's reaction, and went in for the kill. Rochelle tucked her head down onto her shoulder, comfortably and securely wrapping herself around her. She watched as a smile drifted onto Catrine's face, and felt the rhythmatic purring of delight. She considered it quite the success, and even debated telling Lagoona of said achievement. Scaris looked so much better from the shoulder of someone else. But as quickly as she settled, she felt the vibrations of the bike stop beneath her, and she was pulled from her prideful warmth and thrown back into a cold bath of reality. She felt a multitude of eyes in her direction.

"Well well well, it looks like someone has gotten cozy back there". Cleo's voice was heavy with vicarious flirtiness as she twisted her scarf between her fingers.

Rochelle was definitely caught now, and would've killed for a paper bag to cover her face with. It was burning like wildfire, and there was no relief destined to come her way. Catrine turned her eyes back on her, and looked as poised as ever. Rochelle was by no means a short ghoul, but she felt so tiny in the presence of Catrine's confidence, and being tucked into her form was not helping either. Catrine motioned her head towards the road, a quick invitation to spend some time with her. Rochelle couldn't say no.

"You ghouls don't mind if I go out, do you?"

She heard no objections, and in fact saw quite a few understanding faces and encouraging waves as Ghoulia and Frankie dismounted the scooter. She saw from the corner of her eye the wink Catrine gave her friends, a sign of either promising safety or romantic endeavors. Of which, she couldn't be too sure, though she wouldn't mind either. Regardless, Rochelle was giddy and excited. She felt Catrine twist to hand her the leather jacket she had been wearing last night, whilst noticing the purr of the engine return.

"You'll want to wear this for now, it might get chilly for you tonight Mademoiselle."


End file.
